


Both

by ReyloTrashCompactor (NextToSomething)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Infidelity, Light Dom/sub, Multi, i have no idea what i'm doing or where this is going have fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:12:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9721715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NextToSomething/pseuds/ReyloTrashCompactor
Summary: “This is the way the world works,” Kylo Ren breathed against her skin as he tugged her tunic over her head. “You are enemies until you aren’t.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my fandom soulmate, Elithien. Go check her out on tumblr, though I'm sure you already have as she's fancy and famous.

“This is the way the world works,” Kylo Ren breathed against her skin as he tugged her tunic over her head. “You are enemies until you aren’t.”

He pressed her deep into the mattress with his mouth and his body. Heavy and broad and cool to the touch. Skin more pink than pale, so slashed and rippled and ridged with scars and burns. More of them fresh than she expected, as if he'd always come straight from some battle.

She could wink out of existence wholly, his large body over hers. She trailed her fingers up his spine, counting the hard ridges like so many stepping stones. One, two, three. A kiss to her neck that persuaded a sigh out of her as smoke. Four, five, six. Clever fingers that fucked up into her, taught her things about her body she hadn't known were lessons to be learned. Curling and twisting and pulling pleasure from her with each coaxing stroke. Seven… Eight… The hottest part of his cool body, hard and straining against her slickened skin. And then, so full and deep inside her, his hips pressing her thighs apart. There was so much to him, and so little of her, that she half expected him to absorb her completely. But when he first sank into her, hard into wet, need into want, she found herself a vessel. Filled with him entirely.

“This is the way the world works, girl,” he panted against her neck, as she clenched and spasmed beneath him, seeming to draw inward, though they called it “release.” It didn't feel like a release, like a resolution to pleasure. It felt like the start to an addiction. A _first_ that demanded a _next._

“We aren't enemies any longer.”

 

* * *

 

_No one really talked about how Rey came to be a part of the daily life of the First Order. She was simply drawn to the Dark, and Kylo Ren radiated the stuff. So that's where she ended up. With Ren._

 

* * *

 

There was a next, of course. And a next and a next and a next. Her first weeks tucked away within the First Order were spent almost entirely beneath Kylo Ren. She felt as if she should be ashamed of this, as if her only purpose in finding him was to bed him. As if it were so simple as attraction.

But it was rather an affinity for someone like her, for a soul as broken and eroded as the craggy, sand-beaten cliffs of Jakku. Abandonment, betrayal, a hardest manipulation all made for the worst sort of host for a power as formidable as the Force, and yet they were fated to wield it. Rey and Kylo Ren, scared, lost souls that were practically children no matter how old they grew.

It was perhaps because of this that he ran so very hot and cold on her. There were times when he couldn’t have enough of her, groping kisses that ended in frantic fucking on his bedroom floor. Words of affection and devotion that she didn’t know if he actually meant, or only whispered against her skin in hopes of not being left alone again. And then there were times when he would disappear altogether, leaving her alone for days in a bed that suddenly felt like _his_ rather than _theirs._ The silence that took the place of his murmurs of _forever_ and _mine_ was usually more than she could bear, and she’d usually find herself wrapped up in a blanket on the observation deck, watching the defeated galaxy float by.

* * *

 

“You look ridiculous, you know?”

Rey turned toward that snide, cultivated voice and indeed felt foolish wrapped in a blanket in front of the General of the First Order. He looked like he’d just stepped from the inspection queue, his uniform crisp and his mouth set in a hard line. Tall. Lean.

She’d never been this close to him before. He didn’t like her, she knew. He told Ren to be rid of her when she first came to the _Finalizer_. He called her a scourge. He said she was a temptation the weak Knight couldn’t handle.

He’d left with a split lip.

At this memory, she looked to his mouth. She noticed for the first time that his lips were full and pink. Wholly unsuited for the scowl they were always pressed into. When her gaze drifted back up, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Of what, she didn’t know.

It was late in the day cycle, much too late for anyone to be visiting the observation deck. She’d never felt hesitant leaving her room, _Ren’s room,_ in such a state of undress before. But now...

“There is no one here to see me,” she answered coolly.

He took her jaw roughly between his gloved fingers, turning her face up to him. “ _I_ can see you, and I am the most important person on this ship.”

He was staring hard at her, and she caught the barest flicker of his eyes to her own mouth. This, coupled with the tight grip he had on her, sent a flush over her skin. She felt hot and breathless, for reasons she didn’t understand. She wondered if he could feel the heating of her skin through his gloves.

He leaned closer.

“What are you doing out of bed, kitten?” he whispered. His breath was tinged faintly with some sweet smelling spirit and hard mint and smoke. “Afraid of the dark?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but he’d already released her. He tore the blanket from her body, leaving her standing in nothing but the long tunic of Ren’s she slept in. He didn’t hand it back.

“Run along.”

 

* * *

 

As if sensing her confusion, Ren returned the next day. Took one look at her unsure eyes and was kissing her like he'd been gone for a year, rather than a handful of days. Rey wasn't thinking of the General, not now, not when Ren was open so wide, so vulnerable. He took her hard against the wall, leaving marks on her skin that weren't quite covered by her clothes. But Rey didn't care. People would see them and know who put them there, and Rey would have a visible reminder that she wasn't always lonely.

Afterwards, they made their way to the combat theatre. She started unfocused and sloppy, still pinned beneath the hulking mass of Kylo Ren in her mind, and earning a searing burn against her collarbone from his saber as a result. As she turned from him in pain, willing the sensation away, she noticed General Hux watching her carefully from the gallery above. His face was impassive and his arms crossed against his chest.

Any security she felt in Ren’s frantic having of her this morning was quickly draining from her the longer the other man watched her.

She turned back to Kylo Ren, and in short moments had him disarmed, smoldering sparks falling from his ragged cowl where she’d managed to land a hit.

When she looked back to the gallery, the General was gone.

 

* * *

 

It was many days until Ren disappeared again. A tough knot of guilt settled deep in her stomach at her conflicting feelings about his sudden absence. She missed him, and she didn’t like that. She didn’t like that she could never count on when he would be nearby, when she would be left to herself in his rooms.

She didn’t like that she didn’t have rooms of her own.

But a small part of her, the guilty part, was glad he was gone.

She walked to the observation deck, this time pairing leggings with the overlong tunic, though she was still barefoot. As if testing her boundaries.

The reason behind her guilt wasn't on the deck when she arrived, and she tried to not entertain the disappointment this brought. She instead looked out into the stars and thought of a time when she had next to nothing at all, but she still had her own bed.

“Where do you sleep?”

The General's voice came from startlingly close behind her, and she turned. He was right up on her, practically pressing her into the deck’s handrail at the small of her back. He didn’t move away; if anything, he seemed to crowd her even more once she turned to face him. He didn’t have the Force, but he seemed to read her mind all the same.

“I think you know the answer to that question, General,” she said, attempting to keep her voice level.

He cocked his head, an action that reminded her startlingly of Ren, and pressed his lips all the tighter. Suppressing a smile, she thought.

“I do; I just want to hear you say it.”

“Why?”

_Because you turn a lovely color when you blush._

He didn’t speak the words, but she heard them all the same. Brushing up against her mind. She hadn’t looked, hadn’t pulled it from him. But she’d heard them. Which was odd.

His eyes narrowed like he knew, and he reached to pinch her cheek. It hurt, but she found that she didn’t mind.

“Where do you sleep?” he asked again.

Her skin heated with that blush he wanted. “In Ren’s bed.”

“You don’t like that, do you?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, simply settling his hands on the railing to either side of her. “Ren’s a possessive boy. How does it feel to be _had_?”

Though her fingers itched to push him away, or worse, pull him to her by that crisp, starched uniform, she kept her hands to her sides.

“I am not a possession.”

Just an inch closer, and he’d be kissing her.

“Could have fooled me.”

When he stepped away, he seemed to draw the air from her lungs, the heat from her skin. She was sorely tempted to follow after him, but she didn’t understand why. This wasn’t kindness he was showing her. She shouldn’t crave it.

He turned back to her suddenly, his eyes travelling to her bare feet and back again.

“I have your blanket on my bed, kitten, if you ever want to come retrieve it.”

 

* * *

 

Rey demanded rooms of her own when Ren returned. He surprised her by agreeing almost immediately, a proud twist to his lips that might be called a smile.

She pushed harder.

“And I want a job. I want something to do rather than just waiting around for you.”

He stood straighter, delight sparking in his eyes. “Done.”

“A-and… I want to make my own lightsaber. I know you know how. I want you to show me.”

He came to her then, pulled off his mask and settled firm hands on her hips. Pulled her to him as he set teeth to her neck. “Yes, of course. You are more than ready.”

Her head was swimming from all her granted requests, at his arousal at her demands of him.

“What else?” he breathed against her kissed-raw skin. He was peeling off her clothes, gripping her hard enough to bruise. “Tell me what else.”

“I want to take you to bed.”

He groaned, falling to his knees before her. Hands pulling off her leggings and mouth seeking out her core. Kissing and sucking at her heated skin. Sloppy. Delirious.

“Yes, Rey. Anything.”

 

* * *

 

With her own rooms now, her own bed, Rey had no reason to wait for Ren’s frequent disappearances to walk barefoot to the observation deck. So she didn’t. She stood there, straight and still, knowing Ren was on board, and knowing the General would come to find her regardless.

“Ren’s kitten has claws.” He spoke the words against the back of her neck. Lips brushing her skin in hot accusation. His hands gripped the railing to either side of her waist again, but he didn’t give her space. He pressed right into her. Hard in more ways than one.

“General,” she said.

“Knight,” he returned.

There was a lit cigarette settled between the fingers of his left hand and Rey glanced down at it. The General chuckled and balled his other hand in her sloppily pulled back hair. He pushed her head down and bit the back of her neck. She cried out and he immediately smoothed his lips over the hurt. Not quite a kiss, but soothing all the same.

He tipped her head back again, hand still in her hair. He brought the lit cigarette to her lips and his mouth to her ear. “Curious?”

Rey licked her lips and nodded as well she could with her head anchored to his palm. He brought the cigarette between her teeth.

“Like a sip of a drink, pet.”

She sipped.

“And a little breath in.”

She breathed.

“And out again, sweet.”

She exhaled.

She felt lightheaded as the thin smoke plumed out of her, lips tingling and a warm buzz in her ears. He released her, kissing her softly on the temple. So gentle in his contact that she actually whimpered in response.

“Good girl.”

 

* * *

 

Ren howled like a dog when Rey bit the back of his neck. Spilled over his stomach and thighs as Rey stroked him from behind. He collapsed back on her, so large and heavy, but she supported him, whispering words of praise in his ear and lightly kissing his temple.

“Good boy, good boy.”

 

* * *

 

_No one really talked about when Kylo Ren stopped wearing his mask. Bare faced and hooded, he was all the more terrifying as he walked in the wake of that hard girl called Rey. There was a scar across his face, deep and wide, and his dark eyes dared you to see it, to look harder at the ruin someone powerful must have made of him._

 

* * *

 

Rey caught the General watching her sparring the other Knights more and more often. She saw him in the control room as she boarded shuttles for missions, watching her leave.

There, watching again when she came back.

His face was impassive but she could still feel this teeth on her neck, the smoke in her lungs.

She still hadn’t gone to reclaim her blanket.

 

* * *

 

“Where does Ren sleep?” he asked as he draped his great coat over the railing of the observation deck. It had been several nights since she had been brave enough to again visit their particular meeting place. Her hair was down for once, and he drew it back over her shoulders-- _it had grown so long in her time with them--_ before gathering it into a queue. He wrapped the silken strands around his fist and tugged. Her head fell back onto his shoulder and her mouth dropped open.

“In my bed,” she answered. Her eyes were only half open, looking at the General’s hard face through a curtain of lashes. He made a sound of pleasure at her words, but his lips remained firm, his eyes intense.

He raised his other hand to cup her left breast. It was small in his long fingered hand and he plucked at her nipple through her tunic. “Is he there now?” A small, shuttering breath huffed out of her with every pinch and twist of his fingers. His grip on her hair tightened. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes.”

He nipped at her earlobe. “Naughty.”

He spun her around to face him suddenly, pressing her into the railing, pulling her hair all the tighter. Exposing her neck to him.

He placed his hand at her throat and applied just the smallest amount of pressure. “I must admit, I am transfixed by your neck.” He stroked his fingers over the sensitive skin. “So many strings tying you to life, your carotid artery, your windpipe, your spine. Strum these strings just so and--”

He licked his lips, worried his gloved thumb over the base of her windpipe again and again and again until the skin grew hot and agitated.

“Such fragile things protected by even more fragile skin.” He drew his hand away, inspecting his work. He nodded. “You would bruise so easily, I think. I could kiss my mark on you right now, send you back to your bed, to your Ren, with my signature just _here._ ” He touched a finger to the thin skin over her pulse, gentle though precise.

She pulled a bit at his grip at her hair, but he didn’t loosen it. “And you call Ren possessive,” she said.

“We are birds of a feather, though I am loathe to admit it.”

He darted his head down, setting startlingly warm lips to her skin. Chuckled. He was taking her pulse. He kissed a slow, agonizing line up the length of her neck, soft and sweet. Each new touch promised that _this_ could be the one. _This_ kiss might draw deeper, leave its evidence after his mouth had drawn away. She was shaking beneath him, gasping for air as he teased her, tickling along her skin in not quite consummated caresses. When he moved to the other side of her neck, she moaned like it hurt, and perhaps it did. Her sense of feeling was so focused on the light trail of his lips that, were he to bite down, were he to do what he threatened, she would surely scream.

He released her, and in an action that didn’t feel entirely like her own, she grabbed him back to her. _He couldn’t be done with her!_ Her lips were only able to knock clumsily against his stubble roughened jaw before he gripped her and held her out and away.

He let her go and considered her with a step back, loose hair and bare feet and no blanket to hide beneath. He reached for his great coat, and Rey thought he meant to leave. Something in her middle lurched at the idea, but he instead stepped back toward her again. His eyes were hard on hers, then darted down to the floor. When his gaze returned to hers, there was something solid, something commanding in that watery blue.

Rey knew what he wanted.

As she lowered shakily to her knees, he stepped into her, crowding her against the railing. He donned the coat and bent at the waist, gripping the railing and leaving the coat open to shield her from a passing glance. The material didn’t reach all the way to the hard floor; a second look would be enough to see what she was doing beneath his thin attempt at privacy.

But that, she decided, was half the thrill.

He was looking steadily out at the stars, and then looked down at her. His face didn’t relax and he didn’t speak. Not daring to look away, she worked the fastenings of his belt and trousers, untucking his shirt as she went. She only took a moment to see, to take in that brief assurance that she wasn’t the only one hot and aching, before she took him deep into her mouth.

He hadn’t granted her a kiss, but this, this he would allow. She took liberties she knew she might not be given were they alone and he could speak freely. She knew, though she really had no way of knowing, that he would reprimand her for trailing her hands over his stomach, for scratching his hard thighs with blunt nails. Tickling fingers around and up his back would likely have been met with a barked order to stop, or worse, were she in a bed with him. He would punish her, she was sure, though she didn’t know how, were she not giving him head on the bloody observation deck.

But she was giving him head on the bloody observation deck. And he had to be quiet. And she had to be quiet. And she could touch him wherever she could reach and save the consequences for when she finally went to retrieve her blanket.

When he came, hot and fast in her mouth, his gloved hand finally left the banister and tangled clumsily in her hair. The leather caught it and pulled it harder than it might were his hands bare. He hissed, and rocked forward, his first loss of control since she began.

“S-swallow,” he bit out, and she was already complying when a broken, unexpected, “Please…” followed.

She kept him in her mouth longer than was necessary, kissing and stroking until she couldn’t taste him anymore, only herself _on_ him. He let her, trailing gentler fingers over her tugged-sore scalp. When he finally stepped away from her, he made very quick work of refastening his pants.

His shirt was still untucked.

Hux reached a hand down to her and helped her to her feet. Before she could even center her weight, he had her face in his hands, hard and gripping and so, so rough.

The kiss that followed was all the sweeter and softer because of this.

She hadn’t felt unfaithful until Hux kissed her.

It didn’t make sense, of course. He’d had his hands on her before tonight, his mouth on her skin. She’d dropped to her knees and worked him until he came undone down her throat, but still it was the kiss that had her pausing before entering her rooms again.

He had pressed her into the banister again, always so intent on keeping her pinned. As if she were always a moment from running away. Was he so afraid of her leaving?

But it was the consuming, desperate kiss that had kept her there, that had her landing her hands awkwardly on his forearms before fisting shaking fingers in his shirt. He had kissed her like it was an apology. Like he was broken. Like he was weak for wanting something so base as this intimacy that usually came _first,_ not _after._

Kissing her like all of this was true and he’d failed some self imposed standard by indulging, but deciding, if this was his demerit, that he would make it well worth it.

And as his pained groan vibrated against her lips, Rey had felt, for the first time, like she was being unfair to Kylo Ren. This kiss had nothing to do with a lust for her body, and everything to do with a need for _her_.

Ren was in her bed. He was waiting for her. But Rey thought she might just let him wait and finally go retrieve her blanket from Hux’s bed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please take a moment and let me know what you thought, good or bad! Thank you!


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